


Home From War

by KnightlyWordsmith



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightlyWordsmith/pseuds/KnightlyWordsmith
Summary: A talk between sisters about how best to move forward.Inspired vaguely by the song En Vie by  Apocalyptica.





	Home From War

The waters of the icy cold sea lapped gently against the cliff face. Hilda stood alone on the rocks at the edge of the shore, the water coming within a hair’s breadth of the hem of her dress before it was drawn back out to sea. On the water, eight boats drifted slowly away from the cliffs, somber black shrouds cloaking their decks.

Eight boats before her, and eight arrows in the quiver on her back, and one brazier flickering with flames.

Hilda’s grip tightened on the gilded bow in her hand. Her other hand shook as she reached behind her for the first of the arrows. She pulled it free of the quiver, and holding it near its fletching she slowly moved the head toward the smoldering brazier. The fire licked hungrily at the resin soaked rag just below the arrowhead, even as the shaft shook in her unsteady grip. Arm, still shaking, she nocked the arrow on the bow, and pulled back on the bowstring. It resisted her efforts, only pulling to half draw. Or maybe she was the one resisting.

Possessed or not, she alone had been the one to send her faithful warriors to their deaths. Therefore she alone should set them on the path home to Valhalla where their souls may find the peace she’d stolen from them in life.

Hilda gritted her teeth, and gathered up her resolve. Holding onto this willpower, she pulled on the bowstring once again, pulling it back until her wrist brushed her ear. She loosed the first of the arrows. It arced over the water, its flaming head giving it the appearance of a miniature comet. It struck the leftmost boat, and soon fire raced across its entire hull.

Farewell mighty Thor. If we are to meet again in the next life I hope you will find some way to forgive me.

Swallowing back tears she refused to shed, Hilda reached for the second arrow.

* * *

 

Seven flaming arrows, and seven flaming boats later Hilda retired to her private chambers, the weight of her crimes draped around her shoulders like a mourning shawl. Did one such as her truly deserve to be Odin’s representative on Earth? Had she any right to think herself able to lead the people of Asgard? After what had happened? After what she had allowed –no, after what she had ordered to be done?

She plucked idly at a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve. Rather than pull free the thread puckered the fabric, eliciting a frown from Hilda’s delicately painted lips. She pulled again, and still the thread did not yield, marring the fabric even worse. With a frustrated huff that was not at all befitting a lady of her standing, Hilda released the frustrating sleeve, and settled both hands on the carved arms of the chair she sat in.

It seemed everything she did from now on was going to end in ruin.

“Looks like someone could do with a visit to the tailor.” A pleasant voice pulled Hilda out of her dark musings. Unbeknownst to her, Freya had slipped into the room, a silver lined tray in her arms. Her skits swirled around her feet as she approached the chair Hilda sat in.

“And what brings you here Freya?” Hilda asked, tilting her head, and resting her cheek on the fingers of one hand. For her sister’s sake she tried a small smile. The upward twist of her lips seemed so foreign. How long had it been since she’d smiled, she briefly wondered.

Freya flourished the tray in her arms. “The maids said you didn’t eat your breakfast or lunch again. I thought I might tempt you with a little dinner, and maybe some company?” There was a hesitant note in her sisters voice as she added this query.

Hilda could no longer find the stomach for food. Nothing was palatable. Everything tasted as flavourful as sawdust and would settle like lead in her stomach. Then it would churn and twist her gut until her insides were as unsettled as her mind. But she couldn’t bring herself to refuse the hopeful smile on her sisters face. Not when the few times Hilda had caught Freya in her unguarded moments, there was a look of such deep sadness in her eyes. No doubt thinking of the loss of her closest childhood friend, Hagen.

Everyone’s sorrows it seems were on her shoulders. The least she could do was alleviate Freya’s, even for this short moment.

“How could I say no to such an offer?” Hilda uncrossed her legs, and gestured toward the small side table next to her chair. Dipping her head Freya hurried over and set the tray down on the table before pulling another chair up beside it. She reached for the tray and lifted the engraved platter covering to reveal two small bowls of soup, wisps of steam trailing away from them.

Gratitude rose in Hilda as she reached for her own bowl. It was simple fare, a few noodles floating in it, but mostly broth. Just the type of thing she might be able to keep down, no doubt something Freya had considered. Her sister always seemed to know how she was feeling, even if Hilda never said as much. She dipped her spoon in it, and took a small sip. The taste was almost as bland as the soup’s appearance, but for once that was a welcome thing, and Hilda dug in for a larger spoonful of the warm broth.

Looking up from the bowl Hilda saw Freya watching her as she took her first tastes. She wasn’t imagining the relief in Freya’s blue-green eyes. Her sister’s expression turned sheepish when she realized she’d been caught watching Hilda, and she ducked her head. Head still bowed, Freya went about taking up her own bowl of soup and dipping her spoon in it.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Hilda said, knowing those simple words wouldn’t be enough to convey all that she was grateful for. For the simple food, which was exactly what she needed if she wanted to actually keep some food down. For her quiet company. For everything Freya had done when Hilda had been possessed, and above all else for staying by her side afterwards. Athena and her Saints may have lent their strengths in battle, but Freya had truly been the one to save Asgard.

“I’m glad you like it,” Freya replied in that soft way she had about herself. So quiet and unassuming, but with more strength than anyone had ever given her credit for, Hilda included. “Everyone will be relieved to hear you’ve eaten.”

Hilda set her spoon aside, then thought better of it and took it up once again. She dipped it into her bowl to bring another spoonful of the steaming soup up to her lips. “I’m sorry to have troubled you all. It was never my intention. I’ve just not been able to find my appetite after,” Hilda’s lip twisted in a small frown. “Well, after.”

Freya apparently had no response to that, so the two sisters sipped their soup in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence though. It was punctured by the pleasant clink of metal spoon on porcelain bowl, and the faint slurping sound each sister made as they ate. Hilda let out a small sigh that almost sounded contented when she finished her bowl and set it back on her tray. Across the table Freya too had finished, though she still gripped her bowl, staring into the dredges that remained at the bottom.

Hilda cocked her head to the side as she regarded her younger sister. Freya didn’t have that look of sorrow on her face that she wore when she thought of Hagen, but given the tug on the corner of her mouth, she was deep in thought. “You know you didn’t have to do that alone.” Freya’s voice was low as she spoke, still looking down at her bowl.

Hilda didn’t ask what it was that Freya was referring to. The image of eight boats set to take eight heroes to their final resting place flashed across her mind’s eyes. “Yes, I did.” Hilda let the words drop heavily from her lips.

An uncharacteristic flash of anger crossed Freya’s face. It was there and gone so quickly that Hilda wasn’t sure if she’d just imagined it or not. Freya set her bowl and looked up, meeting Hilda’s eyes steadily. “Do you remember when father was teaching us how to skate?”

Hilda’s brows rose slightly at the unexpected turn in their conversation. “Do you even remember?” She replied with a question of her won. “You were so young when he passed away.” A fever it had been. One that wracked the body with violent shivers and hacking coughs that brought up blood. Their mother had wasted away not long after. The elders had said she had succumbed to grief. At the time Hilda hadn’t believed it possible to die from such a thing, and she’d cursed her mother for being weak and leaving her and Freya alone. Now, she realized she owed her deceased mother an apology. Grief was a much more potent force than Hilda had imagined as a child.

“Well, I remember this,” Freya went on, folding her hands in her lap, but losing none of the intensity in her gaze. “There was something he always told us when we fell down. He would say that standing up on our own was best if we could, but it was never shameful to ask for a helping hand. Especially if we were hurting.”

Hilda shook her head. “Freya, this isn’t like skating. This is-“

“You’ve fallen down Hilda,” Freya overrode her. Hilda blinked at the forceful edge that had entered her sister’s voice. “You’ve fallen down,” Freya repeated, her voice softening to her normal lilt. “And you’re hurting.”

Hilda opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips. She was hurting, but she didn’t want to share that pain with anyone. Especially not someone who was already hurting themselves. It would be so much easier though, to share the burden of her guilt.

Freya’s hand fell on her own. Hilda looked down at her sister’s pale, slender fingers as they gave a gentle squeeze. “I know we all need to grieve in her own way, I’m just asking that you let me be there for you through this. You don’t need to get through this all on your own.” Her sister pulled away then. Freya stood up and began collecting the tray she’d brought in.

She turned away and was halfway back to the door when Hilda called out to her. “Freya,” her sister paused in her step, and turned her head, mountains of blonde hair shifting around her shoulders. “Thank you.” Hilda tried for another small smile. It came easier this time than it had earlier. “We- we should dine together more often.”

Freya nodded, a smile growing on her face. “If it gets you to eat, we can start having breakfast, lunch and dinner together.” She turned away again, and Hilda watched her sister until the door closed behind her.

Hilda sat back in her chair, and let out another sigh to her now quiet chambers. It was strange. One simple meal with her sister, and the weight on her shoulder no longer seemed so crushing.

Freya had been the one to save Asgard. Maybe she would be the one to save Hilda from her own grief as well.


End file.
